"Before we begin I want to make something abundantly clear Miss Tonks. I do not like you. I do not trust that you will become a productive member of wizarding society. I see too many similarities between yourself and your parents. You have your mother's deadly precision in spell casting and your father's brutish temper, and a penchant for rebellion born out of arrogance that is reminiscent of both the Lestranges and the Blacks. Adding to that you are a sharp, powerful witch who is both extremely clever and dangerously curious. I think the headmaster is a fool to not recognise these qualities in you. As it stands, however, he has asked me to help you control your mind, and so against my better judgement, I shall do so.
Occlumency is an ancient art, not very well known nor practiced though invaluable. Its purpose is to protect the mind from invasion of an enemy, someone skilled in another branch of magic, Legilimency. However we are not as concerned with protection from penetration than we are the natural consequence of this skill. You must learn how to tightly organise and separate your memories, emotions, and thoughts.
I will break into your mind and you will attempt to stop me. To do this first you must clear your mind of all thought and emotion. If you do not, I will see what you are thinking, and I can delve deeper."
Cassiopeia's mind reeled as she tried to take in all of the information being thrown at her at once, processing his insults, and understanding something about him that now seemed obvious. Snape always could see right through her, and now she knew why. She also thought back to moments in her childhood, with the Dark Lord rummaging through her mind, and with the odd presence of Dumbledore attempting unsuccessfully to shield a portion of her memories.
Snape did not give her time to prepare however, not really, "On three. One, two, Legilimens" he pointed his wand at her head and she was instantly knocked back into the memory she was just thinking on.
She was in a dark room, the only light coming from the burning embers of a fire that had long since gone out. She felt cold fingers wrapped tightly around her jaw, intertwining with her curls on either side of her head. She could feel the wizard's nails biting into the skin behind her ear and her head throbbed with an unbearable pressure. She was panting in pain as she felt like her brain was trying to escape her skull, she distantly felt wetness dripping from her nose, covering her mouth and chin, staining the wizards hands. He was staring at her intently, with horrible red eyes, and the longer she held his gaze the more the pressure built but she couldn't look away, her body didn't obey her silent cries to close her eyes, she was powerless in his gaze. Finally the throbbing reached a crescendo as a white-hot pain flashed across her visage, temporarily blinding her and a flood of memories burst forth.
She was with the Weasleys, suspiciously sniffing her food. She was hiding in an airing cabinet while listening to voices outside the door, she was eating a biscuit that the Weasley matriarch cooked, furtively stuffing some in her pockets for later. She was running away and shouting the Dark Lords name, the memories whizzed past at a blurring speed and that combined with the pain made her stomach roll and her ears ring.
As suddenly as it happened it was over. She stumbled back a few steps, clutching her head in agony as the man in front of her casually sipped from a tumbler.
Stay a voice whispered in her head. She was rooted to the spot.
"Dumbledore's protection is nothing compared to my power, and you, little Lestrange, have been keeping important secrets." The man hissed.
His voice sounded far away, and her ears filled with a buzzing sound. She clutched her head again, feeling as if something was off. Where was she? Why was she seeing this? She felt a whisper of something in her skull, a gentle tickle that sent chills across her skin and made her twitch. Something was wrong.
She was back in the Hogwarts classroom, her heart was racing and she was covered in sweat, and in front of her stood her Head of School, his earlier malice absent from his face. Instead he stared at her curiously, lost in thought.
"You can see all of that." It wasn't a question; she said it dully, rubbing her head, the memory of his presence still causing her to twitch uncomfortably.
"I see you are no stranger to Legilimency." He said softly, eyeing her carefully. "You are correct. Everything you see I can see. If you do not like it," his lip curled, "then learn to close your mind."
"How?" she asked irritated. "You say close your mind, but you give no instruction on how? Am I meant to just know?" she ran her hand through her hair, tugging on the longer
"Clear your mind of any thoughts, or create a distraction." He waved his hand, "everyone has their own methods. Find one that suits you." He held his wand once more, preparing to cast again.
"Legilimens."
It was a recent memory; she was talking with Glynn in that abandoned classroom. She felt the anger burn through her at his suggestion she trade sexual favours for potions. She felt the tickle in her head again, it was like an itch she couldn't scratch, a burning such as the warning one received before sneezing. She tried to focus on that, trying to isolate where it was in her brain. She shut her eyes to the memory, of her threatening him with castration and a lifetime in prison. She knew it was a memory, and she knew it was Snape. He fought her, slipping and sliding out of her mental reach easily, relentlessly playing the memory through
He finally withdrew from her ming, his sneer firmly in place as he glowered at one of his least favourite students.
"Bloody hell man, at least give me time to prepare." she grumbled, her face twitching in irritation as she felt the remnants of his presence scratching in her skull. "And before we continue we must speak about my memories."
"Language Miss Tonks." he barked immediately, "And for you information, unfortunately memories are not permissible in the Wizengamot. Needless to say any rule or law breaking I may witness will regrettably stay between us." Snape continued, looking deeply disappointed by this fact.
"And the headmaster?"
"Shall get a full report obviously if it is pertinent."
She scowled, weighing the pros and cons. He had already seen much, more than she ever wanted anyone to see. Her mind was filled with terrible things, this she knew, and she felt it was in her best interest to perhaps warn the man about what he was getting into. She was going through this humiliation in the first place because she was plagued by the images in her brain, she wouldn't wish it on another person, even one she disliked as much as Snape. But first, she had to be certain that it was going to help her.
"Did the headmaster explain to you why he requested your tuition?" she asked carefully, watching the man closely.
"You are plagued by night terrors." he raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that spoke plainly how he felt about this. He clearly thought the headmaster was overreacting.
She swallowed, trying to find the words to explain to him the finer points without giving too much away. If they continued, he would see, eventually. They needed to come to an understanding before then. She had to trust him, at least a little, in order to confide in him. It made her stomach twist unpleasantly at the thought.
"I have awful memories, thanks to my parents." her voice was small as she folded in on herself a bit, rounding her back and wrapping her arms around her torso, staring intently at the ground, away from his prying gaze.
"I spent years pushing these things to the back of my mind, trying to forget. I started to confront these memories, and they have since plagued me. I can't sleep, I can't eat, and I am struggling to find the will to continue along in my current trajectory. The headmaster thought that, I dunno, that learning to organise my mind might help? I cant see how yet, but if you are going to be digging around, I just…" she pulled at the curls on top of her head in irritation, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. "I just want you to know what you might see." she finally looked up at him, her eyes shining, her voice only slightly above a whisper.
"I know you were one of them." she confided softly, ignoring the way his face clouded with anger, his lips pursing into a tight line. "I know you must've done something for Dumbledore, assisted somehow in the war to get him to vouch for you. You must have been very brave, to defy him. You know what they do, and you know what he is like." she closed her eyes, her face twisting in anguish. "I cant get them out of my head Professor." she finished, slumping in defeat, her hands angrily twisting her silver bracelet.
She felt drained having confided now, at least partially, to another person. She figured the first two mental invasions was also playing into her exhaustion.
Snape was silent. She was afraid to look at him.
The silence continued.
Finally, "Occlumency gives you control over your own mind. How you use that control is up to you. It is not unheard of for one to use this skill to deal with unpleasant memories." his voice was low, his face carefully blank once more.
"Enough for tonight." he turned on his heel abruptly, taking a few quick steps to one of the many bookcases lining his walls, his hands running along the spines of several volumes before pulling a few out. "Read. Come back prepared." he thrust the books into her hands.
She took his dismissal seriously and scurried out of the classroom as fast as she could.
Their lessons continued nightly. She had studied the volumes he had given her, tried to understand the techniques described within, and practiced them. She was familiar with some of the concepts from her own practice in mindfulness and worked hard to improve and increase her awareness of her surroundings and her place in them.
She was getting rather skilled with her physical mindfulness exercises, but she was still lacking significantly on her mental awareness. She spent at least an hour, often more, sitting on her bed with her eyes closed, trying to map her inner mind.
It was difficult at first, to try and bring order to her swirling thoughts and emotions, memories fighting for attention, and she struggled to clear her mind, to become the blank slate Snape so often told her she needed to be. She decided to try something else. Something she read in that stupid muggle self help book.
She built a mind palace.
Her palace was less of a palace and more of an impossibly tall, crumbling victorian tenement building. Inside was a labyrinth of winding hallways, with hundreds of rooms, some interconnected while others were isolated with only one entry. The lower floors were for her day to day thoughts and memories, mainly dealing with subjects around her coursework and Hogwarts. The lower floors were well lit, with wide open corridors and unlocked doors.
The further up she walked in her mental building, the darker and dingier it grew. It was reminiscent of her last group home, with filth lining the floors and staining the walls. Here she stored her anger and resentment, her violence unifying memories of fights, curses, and petty acts of rebellion.
The uppermost floor loomed into the sky, the air growing thinner making it hard to breathe and some rooms were bricked shut. There were no lights in her upper floors, and trapped within a dizzying maze of hallways and dead ends were her darkest memories. Fear, shame, and self loathing lived up there, with each victim of hers gaining a room dedicated to them alone. She kept them there, their memory in warm shrines attached to torture chambers. Those rooms had doors that always opened when she walked down the decrepit hallways, the memories beckoning her to revel in the pain and sorrow, enticing her to drown in her guilt.
Other doors were bricked shut, their contents too dangerous for her to even create an imaginary avatar for. Her parents lived there, her fondness and love wrapped and warped by hate and shame were locked away. They whispered to her, insidious thoughts of violence and terror, wrapped in a sweet poisonous allure. It had felt good to cast those spells, it had felt good to be in her mother's embrace. She swelled with pride when her mother approved of her performance, and she nearly wept when she said she loved her. Here her father called to her, telling her he was so proud of how she dealt with the other girls in the group homes, and offering advice on how to track down all those who had wronged her. She revelled in the feeling when he said he was pleased with her, affirming that she would one day grow to be a fine addition to their cause. He was going to teach her, when they were released from prison, all that he learned as a young man. How to track, as he had done for the Dark Lord. It was his turn to impart his wisdom and he relished the day.
She spent as little time as possible in even the central floors of her mental building, preferring to cover herself in the tosh of the lower floor. Those were her safe memories, ones that she didnt mind anyone seeing, they were harmless, and shallow.
Snape was relentless however. Pushing and pushing, always finding a way past her carefully constructed barriers. He timed himself, making a game out of how quickly he could ascend to the uppermost floor of her mental tenement building. She tried to build traps, mazes, and dead ends into her mind, things to slow him down and convince him it wasn't worth it. He saw through these easily, overpowering them with barely a thought, charging straight to the top. He reluctantly acknowledged that she was improving, making defenses that he could actually feel and acknowledge, even though they were weak. He kept telling her night after night that she was too obvious in her mental structures. That he knew she was hiding something.
He saw awful things, her being punished by her parents, he felt her pain as the cruciatus ripped through her, and her father manhandled her in public. He saw her alone and hungry, forgotten in a dark room as a very small child, he saw her pinned under the last guardian, his foul breath wafting over her face as she struggled to fight him, desperate for her knife, he saw the fights amongst the other children, the emaciated child attempting to strangle her in the middle of the night. He saw it all, and never commented on the memories contents, his face blank, his words dealing only with her failure in defending herself against his mental invasions.
So she tried something else . A decoy.
She attached a feeling she received from a memory of when she saw her mother approaching her in a shop when she was young. She knew, in the pit of her stomach, that there was going to be problems. She had been right, the shop keeper had been maimed in the encounter. But the particulars of the memory were not important, the feeling was.
She meditated on the emotion she had felt that day. Dread, fear, humiliation, embarrassment, guilt. She took these emotions, and attached them to another memory, hoping Snape would take the bait.
That night when he tried to break into her mind, she put up a huge resistance, fighting him off, and trying to keep him away from the one memory she had attached the false emotion to.
Sensing her fight he ignored most of everything else in her mind, zeroing in on the moment that caused her so much alarm, embarrassment, and trepidation.
He punched through her weak defences like nothing, playing the memory over for himself.
She was in a salon, in a run down charity shop that was attached to a public works building. The building was covered in graffiti about a woman name Maggie, and were not very kind to her, whoever she was. She was in a creaky plastic chair, wringing her hands nervously as a woman who was covered nearly head to toe in bright, colourful tattoos pulled and prodded her hair, a pair of scissors on a counter near by.
The woman looked sceptical, frowning at the nest of curls she had been given. Cassiopeia fidgeted nervously in the chair, very conscious of the fact that she couldn't remember the last time she had not combed or applied any product to her hair in recent memory. As it stood her curls had turned into a matted mess, with detritus littered throughout from a few nights of sleeping rough.
"Im afraid its too far gone to save…" the tattooed woman reluctantly said, pulling on a length of hair that was nearly completely dreaded, with bits of dirt and leaves stuck inside. "You just have to get rid of most of it. If you like I can deal with it today, it will be shorter, but not so much that it will be a shock.
Cassiopeia sighed, her shoulder slumping in defeat. She wasn't particularly attached to her curls, they had always just...been. She shrugged reluctantly.
"Mate. You just have so much hair, I think it'll be quite a relief to just chop it off honestly. I was thinking we can maybe cut it fairly short on the sides, leave a few bits up top to be all floppy like. It'll be wicked."
Cassiopeia shrugged once more, indifferent now.
She watched as her began cutting large chunks of matted curls off her head, watching in a bizarre fascination as they dropped to the floor. The woman kept up a steady stream of chatter, completely uncaring that the girl sitting in front of her remained silent, just listening and thinking.
Her head felt light. That was the first thing she noticed. And she looked different. She still had her almost too square jaw line and black piercing eyes, but they were no longer hidden behind masses of hair. True to her word, the woman had cut nearly 80 percent of her hair extremely short, measuring on a few centimeters from her sides and the back of her skull. The only curls she had managed to save was a half of dozen or so inches on the very top of her skull. These curls flopped to either side, gaining extra bounce from not being weighed down from excess hair.
She looked different. A casual observer might not even realise she was the same person, something that would be useful in her current situation. More importantly, Cassiopeia realised for the first time in her life that when she looked in the mirror she did not see her mother. She saw a new person who was a stranger. It was liberating.
Snape pulled out of the memory with a scoff, his face a deep scowl that darkened when she shot him a cheeky smile.
"I see you have changed tactics." he said stiffly.
"Yes."
He hovered for a second, before turning on his heel to head to his bookcase once more.
"Decoys area good way to hide memories you do not want me to access."
She grew better with every passing week, and most importantly the lessons were having the effect the headmaster anticipated. Re ordering her mind, compartmentalising and organising it so helped her quarantine her most feared memories. She was able to examine them when she needed to, normally in remembrance of her few victims, and was able to lock them away again. Her nightmares stopped, she was able to clear her mind and focus on the day to day tasks required of her.
Her relationship with Snape changed as well, he was still surly and sharp with her, but he was also quiet company. No one in her life knew what her childhood had been like, she had never told anyone. But Snape had witnessed it, parts of it, and it almost seemed like he understood.
The change happened after he witnessed her first bloody memory, the day she accidently killed Gerald Cambry. She didn't fight him when he happened upon the memory, instead going numb with shock and horror as it replayed in front of her, vivid in its details. She was mesmerised by the blood, the bright scarlet, the smell of iron and human odour turned her stomach, and her skin crawled as the warm blood oozed over her hands and down her front.
She was sick, losing the contents of her dinner over the stones of the potions classroom and breaking his concentration. She hastily tried to clean it up, fumbling with her wand and dry heaving as the after effects of the memory lingered. Snape had been silent, a small furrow between his eyebrows as he dealt with the mess and pushed her gently back into her chair.
He remained silent, letting her cry and try to recenter herself. He offered no encouragement or consolement, he just leant against his desk, folded his arms across his chest, and waited patiently. She almost didn't feel the gentle brush of his magic against her surface thoughts. He had been quick and efficient gathering what information he needed rapidly before withdrawing, apparently satisfied.
He was respectful in her tears, looking at the ground instead of directly at her, and he waited patiently. Finally when she was under control he said softly, so softly she wasn't even certain he said anything at first,
"Children can go to extremes to receive the approval and love of a parent. It is up to the parent to take responsibility for their children."
She debated this fact, reminding him that she had very much been in control of her actions. She was responsible as the hand that held the knife that killed him, mistake or not. Snape listened respectfully, nodding where appropriate and frowning when he disagreed. He listened, and somehow, she felt that he understood. He accepted her explanation and her feelings with no outward judgement or revulsion.
It was a relief to talk to him. To confide in someone who knew the whole story, who had witnessed the things that haunted her in her darkest moments. And to speak to someone who did not outwardly confirm her darkest thoughts and fears. Snape didn't judge her, and the few times he spoke, it was always to remind her of her age at the time, or that parental acceptance was a powerful drug.
When he felt confident that her lessons had served their purpose he offered her a choice. She could continue, weekly instead of nightly, to hone her occlumency skills, of they could end it all there, and she could go back to keeping her secrets her own from all but the most powerful legilimens. There was still much that Snape hadn't witnessed in her brain and that fact gave her a moments pause as she quickly weighed the pros and cons. These lessons with Snape had become almost a therapy for her, a place where she could be honest and where she could be herself, and everything that was included within. But she needed to know one thing before she made her decision.
"Do you still think I am a danger to wizarding society?"
He peered at her carefully, pursing his lips as he thought carefully about his response. He pondered her questions for a few long moments that spread into a few minutes, trying to figure out both his own feelings on the subject and what words to express them in.
"I stand by most of my earlier sentiment, with a few qualifications. I think it is a testament to your own strength and determination that you have resisted committing both serious injury and a serious crime during your time here at hogwarts, given how you've been treated by your peers and your particular background. I think if you ever went the way of your parents you would be a force that would dwarf the fear and destruction they caused. I also think however that you genuinely do not want to hurt people, and when it happens you punish yourself far beyond what the crime calls for. I think you have a great capacity to help people and that you will do everything in your power to do just that, perhaps as an atonement for crimes you take responsibility for or for your family's legacy.
I think your life will not be easy, and will perhaps grow even more difficult as time passes. You will be judged for who you are, and you might be expected to rely on those traits you so obviously hate. My suggestion is to continue Occlumency training so that when the time comes, and it will come, you have the ability to hide what you have not been able to keep from me because not everyone will see your emotions as a strength, but will use them to exploit a weakness."
She sat numbly, listening to his observations and thinking deeply about herself and what she wanted out of life. One thing confused her though, "help people sir?"
He shrugged casually, "you obviously want to become a curse breaker, would that not be helping people? Though if I may, your spell and charms work might make you an asset as a healer in St. Mungos. Those things are not mutually exclusive either. Perhaps you should speak to Madame Pomfrey about that career path."
She frowned, thinking through his reasoning. She had never considered a career as a healer, seeing her strength more in destructive and chaotic magic as opposed to helping magic. But was breaking a cursed object so different from reversing spell damage? It was something to think on more when she had time.
Their nightly lessons ended, with the pair agreeing to change to weekly sessions. Snape became better at actually teaching her, going so far as to offer hints on how to better structure and protect her mind. He applauded her effort at creating order and structure in her brain, but pointed out that it was very obvious the structure.
Anyone with skill would very quickly understand the layout and see immediately that the sensitive memories were held at the top of her mental building. She needed to intersperse painful and compromising with shallow ones, wrapping them in banality so the attacker would grow bored. And for memories that were too risky or incriminating to ever discover she needed to create hidden floors, buried deeper than anyone would ever feasibly think to go, hiding them cleverly within her existing structure. How she would do it was ultimately up to her and was not something he could comment on, as each mind was highly personal and attuned to the person. No two minds were alike and what worked for one user would not necessarily work for another.
He would test her defenses, tell her where and why they failed, but could not help her prepare them.
It was frustrating, but it was also mentally stimulating. It provided her something to work on and think on to fill her time between classes. It was a welcome distraction from her loneliness, so she buried herself in the work. The next time she met the Dark Lord, or her parents, and she felt deeply that one of those two events were going to happen, she would be ready.
Easter holiday came and she decided that she would go home to the Tonks household. Nymphadora had not been happy with her decision, and made this very obvious throughout the holiday with tense and awkward silences. Cassiopeia spent most of her time in her room, still grounded from her antics the previous summer, listening to her music and studying for her O.W.L. examinations.
She wasn't sure her adopted sister would ever forgive her, and she wasn't certain whether she even deserved forgiveness for accidentally cursing her, but she was pleased with what little progress they made over the decidedly awful holiday.
It came a few short days before they were to return from term, with Cassiopeia quietly asking the name of a particular artist Dora was listening to. The girl scowled at her suspiciously, before reluctantly answering. Cassiopeia nodded, writing down the band name to look up later. They were good, and she said as much to Dora who seemed surprised to have anything in common with her cousin.
Another breakthrough came when Dora reluctantly approached Cassiopeia with her own leather jacket and pictures of her favourite wizard rock band in her copy of Warlock Rage, a monthly alternative fashion and music publication aimed at teenagers.
"Can you help me with this?" she asked, her face pursed like she was sucking on a particularly sour lemon.
Cassiopeia gave a small smile, slowly putting down her things to look at the offered jacket and the pictures, thinking through the best way to transform the jacket into something similar to the one the rocker was wearing, without magic. She nodded slowly, her brain whizzing with a few ideas.
It was an uneasy peace between the girls after that. They weren't friends, and they each preferred not to be around each other or acknowledged, but they did not openly hate each other any more which was a definitely step.
Xxx
She sat in Professor Snape's office, fidgeting with her bag and looking around nervously. She knew she wasn't in trouble, and yet she couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was up to something unpleasant when it came to her.
He scrawled lazily on some papers in front of him, and without looking up from his task he threw a few pamphlets in her general direction. She frowned as she examined them, utterly confused. They were career brochures, marketing nonsense aimed at glorifying various career pathways. She had one from the ministry detailing their curse breaking program, and one from Gringotts bank, detailing programs for their wizard employees.
"I have taken the liberty to choose those pamphlets that are most related to your intended career trajectory. Regardless you NEWT examinations will be the same. I would draw your attention to the third pamphlet, detailing a special independent study program." he sniffed, crossing something out on the paper in front of him viciously.
"Professor Flitwick has advised me to advise you that he would happily supervise a two year independent study course for you, in magical theory." he scowled, spitting out the man's name hatefully, still glaring down at the paper in front of him.
She peered curiously at the other pamphlet, detailing a self led program offered at the Pre-NEWT and NEWT level for independent magical research study in the students choice.
"It is a risky course, the grading entirely subjective and the topics are subject to approval by a highly conservative board from the ministry. Do not make any decisions immediately." he warned, flipping the page in front of him.
"You will need a NEWT in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms obviously. To achieve this you will need an E in Professor Budge's defence course, though an O would be preferable, to safeguard against any staffing changes that may occur. I too only take O grades into my N.E.W.T. course, however for the rest, simple E's may do." He sounded bored as he rattled off the grading requirements, still making the paper in front of him rather aggressively.
"And if I want to do this independent study professor?" she asked curiously, eyeing the pamphlet. His quill paused for a moment as he let out a long suffering sigh accompanied by an eye roll, "ever the over achiever, your course load would be unusually large, something that may risk achieving the sufficient grades to advance into the future career. I suggest you speak to Professor Flitwick about it directly, and inform me of your decision by the end of the year. You must submit a topic by the end of term. The ultimate decision will be made over the summer following a review panel at the ministry. You may be required to be there in person." he warned, looking up at her briefly before looking back at the papers in front of him.
She nodded nervously, gathering the documents and putting them in her bag. "Thank you Professor for your time." she said respectfully, taking his silence as a dismissal. He grunted in response, telling her to send in the next student.
Xxx
Her O.W.L. exams came and went, and Cassiopeia found most of them challenging but not beyond her ability. She was confident that she achieved the sufficient grades needed to advance to the correct NEWT classes.
She had been quite pleased by the examiners reactions to her charms and defence work, asking her to perform more and more complicated spells, far beyond what the curriculum or examination called for. She only faltered when they asked her to cast a Patronus, a spell she had never attempted, and in the end could not produce.
She still received a round of applause when she cast a particularly impressive concealment charm that made the examiner almost entirely invisible for the duration of the examination. They eventually had to break the charm since it lost none of its power over the course of the two hour examination. Her examination went a little longer than normal as her and the examiners got lost in a particularly in depth discussion about theoretical magic work, and spell diagrams. Professor McGonagall had to interrupt the exam when they ran over 30 minutes over, much to the disappointment of the examiner she was having the particular conversation with.
"An absolute pleasure to meet you Miss Tonks!" the man said enthusiastically shaking her hand, "and thank you for such stimulating conversation. I do hope you consider an independent study, and with Filius-er Professor Flitwick as an advisor- I am sure it will be cracking. Might I ask what career path you are looking into taking?"
"Mr Spavin, please, there are other students-" Professor McGonagall protested, her face turning red. The man just waved her off, smiling broadly at a now blushing Cassiopeia.
"Er- curse breaking sir." she said meekly, fiddling with her wand.
"An excellent profession!" he proclaimed, "that is sure, however if I may, you might want to consider the charms department at the ministry, or at St Mungo's where I, myself work. Oh yes, alright Professor… Pleasure once more!"
She and Professor Flitwick had many discussions after class about her pursuing an independent study, and after much deliberation, they finally agreed on a topic that was potentially management, while still being wildly ambitious, and would keep her busy for the remaining time at Hogwarts. Professor Snape's eyebrows rose as he took in her proposal documentation, giving it a once over in the last few days of term.
Then he shrugged, tucked it away, and promised he would submit it to the proper authorities, and warned her to remain within reach of the Owl post for the review panel.
With all of her major responsibilities completed Cassiopeia felt strangely light and hollow, mindlessly wandering around the school and the library, trying to ignoring the other students celebrating the end of exams with their various friends and partners.
A/N sorry its taken me forever! I have been away travelling and working for a few weeks, and am still away for at least a week more, but i thought id get this up for you guys! enjoy!
tibys